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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794126">Railgrinder</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittalion/pseuds/skittalion'>skittalion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tails from the Tale [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Snowpiercer (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:47:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittalion/pseuds/skittalion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, I apologize to my audience, not that I think you're that invested, but I'm not writing this great story that i was going to write because... well I have FREAKING HAD IT WITH THE NOW TERRIBLE WRITING OF SNOWPIERCER WHICH SEEMS TO HAVE DEVOLVED INTO TOTAL GARBAGE FOR NO REASON.</p><p>Also, I don't care if they real or fake killed Melanie, it's garbage writing and I can't understand who's in charge of hollywood that they think it's histerical to kill off everyone's favorite characters and then send younger versions out to do the same thing.... like what is this, ageism?  Do you think we can't stand to look at the same woman for more than one season?  Explain how this is not mysognistic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tails from the Tale [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Expedition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Layton and Melanie have a drink</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was silent since she had no agenda today.  He looked at her.<br/>
“What did you grow on your farm?”<br/>
“My parents farm; and corn.”</p><p>He poured the scotch. Same situation, different drink.  Repeating the ritual she had used to trap him. A sign of trust, willingness to put old wars aside, and all that went with them. He couldn’t help, “Didn’t think we’d be sharing a drink again.”</p><p>“You’re pouring this time Andre”.  She'd gotten the better of him. She always did.</p><p>The outer edge of his hand brushed hers as their glasses touched. Just the outer edge of the tip of a finger.  The slightest brush of flesh. She was cold.  Like a stone covered in ice.  As dangerous as an empty plane of snow, with no warmth in site.  Like the corn farm she had grown up on in the dead of winter.  Not cold enough to burn, just, cold.  And he wondered what was lying under all that snow.  Dare he compare her to an ice sculpture? He almost raised his lips at the thought.<br/>
</p><p>He realized he had changed.  He was different now, from the man who lived under the sun, when the world was alive. Like a cliché, time and circumstance changed him. Now, in this new world he had frozen, and starved, and killed, and watched his loved ones leave and die. The man he had been, he couldn’t be him anymore.  Didn't know him.  If he met that man on the streets of Snowpiercer, he would recognize him, maybe, but he would understand, that he isn't the same.  His two selves, the one from the warmth, and the one from the cold, had no room in this place.  He was the man he was now.  He had once been a calm, cool, collected man.  He had felt a peace inside him, like a calm cool pond with a light wind blowing over it; but with each passing mile of this train, in ice cold world, he had began to burn hotter and hotter until he there was a furnace inside of him.  That he might stand outside in the bare winter and melt the very snow.  Like he would burn up anything he touched.</p><p>He raised the glass to his lips.  She did the same. </p><p>As he looked in her eyes, he thought of the northern lights.  They had captured his mind, the first time he saw them.  As a child, he had played a game where he discovered the north pole.  Battling the deadliest beasts and greatest dangers, man versus wild; under the northern lights. He remembered stumbling, falling, the drawers. Danger indeed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Ship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melanie reflects on what responsibility means</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She remembered the movies, the old ones, about ship captain’s, who had to make hard choices, and suffer the consequences, no complaints.<br/>
The first movie was about a ship that capsized, and the first mate became the captain because the captain went down with the ship.  They gave him all respect, called him captain, he even had the hat.  The former captain had passed the hat, and all the authority he possessed to the new captain.  Before going down with his ship.  As captains used to do, in the old days.<br/>
His first responsibility, as the new captain, had been to save as many as possible.  He gathered them all into lifeboat and a storm came up.  The last engineer told him the boat could only hold so many.  So, his second responsibility, as the captain, was to choose who got to stay in the lifeboat, and who got to die.</p><p>In the second movie the hero, a privateer, commanded a fleet of ships and won many victories.  One night, at a party, he was arrested in front of his fiancé.  One of his many underlings had defied his orders and attacked an ally ship, killing all the passengers.  When questioned the commander had said, “it’s my responsibility”, and everyone was shocked.  Melanie too.<br/>
Afterall, it wasn’t his fault that the other man had broken his rules.  At thirteen, she hadn’t understood that kind of responsibility.</p><p>“That’s what the idealists never got”, he had said, his green eyes flashing in the sun, “real sacrifice”; and she had believed him, in the sun; because she thought she knew sacrifice.  Sixty hours a week of school, chores, and study, from getting up early to staying up late sacrifice.  Be clean, detailed, work hard, be polite sacrifice.  Sacrifice was rewarded.  You plant seeds, crops grow, the basics of life.  Being an engineer only reinforced it.  She thought she knew everything.  You torque a bolt 36 degrees, clockwise, a cold dead object springs to life.  A life she created.  A life that carried other life.  </p><p>“A fortress of class”, he had said, he hadn’t looked at her.  “Is that all you see?”, she had asked.  He looked at her then, his eyes burning with anger, and, just for a moment, she couldn't look back.  </p><p>She had been frozen.  She thought.  As if she were the one left behind.   From the moment the train left she felt her blood freeze, turning still and blue inside her.  Flashing in an instant from a living thing to an object, a robot; turning a bolt to move the train along.  Everyone became like that, frozen.  Stuck in a numbed out and useless pattern, just going through the motions.  Under the artificial glare of our self-made lights, we began to lose hope.<br/>
Until she unlocked the door, at the back of the train, and released the boiling sun.  His anger leaked out of him in a heat wave and thawed their frozen world, just a little.  Just enough heat to ignite a fire, and in another flash their world changed.  All the frozen pieces started moving again.  </p><p>She couldn’t look him in the eye that day.  She did now.  Where this new motion would take them, she didn’t know.  He was the captain now.  Only the ship was a train, and the train was the world.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>open to critique and editing advice thanks.  It seriously took two days of intense consentration to create one page.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Snowfall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prequal: A family travels through the city trying to reach the train.  Told from the first person, such as a diary entry.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok, so it makes me nervous to write romantic scenes for real people (I know they are characters but real people are playing them).  Also, I wanted to write supplementally to Snowpiercer not in contradiction to it. So it's easier for me to write this prequal right now than continue forward in the story.  Promise it all ties in and makes sense.  Also, I've been struggling to get anything out, so better to just go forward.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>July 27, 2016</p><p>The snow fell silently in waves of blinding white.  How can it be this beautiful and still hurt this much?  We didn’t take the streets because they were clogged with traffic and dangerous.  We took a rope ladder and travelled through people backyards instead.  There weren't many walls, mostly just gates and doors, all of them open.  Most of the houses were already empty.  We climbed over one wall though and there was a whole family sitting there, huddled around a fire together as the snow lightly fell.  I was so embarrassed, but they didn’t even look scared or shocked to see us.  They just looked at us, and gestured for us to go, then just ignored us and went back to being together.  Doesn’t matter anyways right.  Everyone was going to die, except for us.</p><p>Why we were lucky or important, I do not know.  Only that my dad was not “essential” enough personnel to get us a military bunker, and that a teenager is not “essential” enough to know the details.  Dad just told us to pack, so we did.</p><p>Tom brought the recorder and a “perpetual” battery.  Andrea had to have her favorite doll of course.  And then there was me.  I couldn’t pack, couldn’t decide which sweater to take, red or blue.  I mean, which sweater do I want to wear for the rest of my life.  Red, or blue.  When I started to cry mom came to help.  “You don’t have to be ok baby, we’re here for you. Together.  Take the red sweater.  That way, if we get separated, you will be easier to find,” and I had just cried.</p><p>I remember that silent journey the most, helping each other over fences, taking turns holding Andrea and passing her over the walls.  The journey began in the living room of the only home I had ever known.  As we stood there, I saw it, my whole life passing before my eyes, my earliest memories of running to my mom and dad who were smiling at me.  Fighting with Tom, doing the dishes, Mom and Dad coming home from the hospital after she was born.  “She’s mine!” I had said, so sure that this little doll was for me.  Mom and Dad laughing at the dinner table.  I know from other girls in school that our family was really close, really good to each other compared to other people.  Even with all my mistakes they had always stood beside me.  And then we turned…. And walked out of our home forever.</p><p>I remember all of the open doors on the street, all the doors to people’s homes, now abandoned.  We walked through so many of those doors, and so many yards.  I never knew people could live in so many different ways.  Islamic or Christian, clean or dirty, hunters or hippies, their doors were open all the same.  </p><p>It was so silent.  As we travelled through our secret world.  I am sure I remember, that I could hear the noise from the street, and Andrea’s squealing, but in my memory there is only the snowfall, and silence, and a world full of open doors.</p><p>Pitter patter<br/>
Spitter spatter<br/>
The world is ending<br/>
And what does it matter</p><p>One day, I will make it a song.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A large number of people have formed plans to break onto Snowpiercer before it leaves.  Our family tries to reach the train.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize this is coming to you unedited as I have a hard time putting stuff out.  So.. just putting it out, will edit later... it's not my greatest wish to put out not my greatest work, but balanced against not putting anything out... here it is.  All of this story is designed to fit into the cannon storyline and not contradict it... like backstory.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What I know about the plan to breach the train, is that it involved both cops and criminals… Since the world was ending anyways, connections and resources mattered more than other things.</p><p>The mob had people replace people who were getting on the train and those people were passing information to the rest of us.  The police, some ex military, current military, and a few lucky criminals who got released in exchange for the power, training, and weapons law enforcement brings.  Dad had special electronics skills, which they would need to breach the doors, once we breached Snowpiercer, 1001 cars long.</p><p>What we knew was the train stretched 10 miles, 1001 cars.  The thing about a 10 mile train, my dad would say, is that’s about 20 miles to guard, too much, especially for people who want to get on the train themselves.  There will be a moment, he said, our moment, just like there always has been, the moment when the people who are held down, get up, and take those things that were stolen, back.  That’s what he said…</p><p>The train would leave at 8 PM Eastern Standard Time, sharp.  We had to be there.</p><p>We arrived at a meeting point near Lake Calumet, only about 10 cars in our group.  I couldn’t tell who was who except for people in military fatigues, but I think the criminals drove better cars than the police and military, one guy rolled up in an armored SUV, that was our ride.  My dad was important to the cause, because of his special skillset.  I felt so bad, because I’m just useless, and I never did anything important in my whole 16 years of life to deserve this.  I couldn’t stop crying, even thought the tears froze before even hitting my scarf.<br/>
There were supposed to be more than 1000 people breaching the train, attacking from all sides without damaging the train was so hard I guess, I don’t know why they had to attack the side without doors, but I guess, threatening to destroy the train itself created the opening or something.  I never got the chance to ask.</p><p>Everybody was taking a different path to the train, so as to attract as little attention as possible.  I could only see from the windows of the car.  With Andrea on mom’s lap, and Tom knee to knee with me, I looked out the windows.  It really looked like the end of the world, the closer and closer we got to the train tracts, but… like fire… like that poem by Robert Frost:</p><p>Some say the world will end in fire<br/>
Some say in ice<br/>
From what I know of desire,<br/>
I favor those who hold with fire<br/>
But if the world had to end twice<br/>
I know enough of hate to say<br/>
That Ice is great<br/>
And also will suffice</p><p>Except this was the ending of fire.  Because all around us, cars were crashing into each other, and people were, I swear to god shooting missiles from planes, and everything was exploding around us.  The people trying to keep us from the train.  Andrea would scream but mom was so good at shooshing her.  Mom.</p><p>A truck almost crashed right into us and I screamed so loud.  Tom hit his head because the driver swerved so fast.  Mom had a serious death grip on Andrea, I thought she’d die from being crushed to death.</p><p>Fuck the road, we drove on sidewalks, through fences, it was like being in a video game, but real. As we got closer and closer to the train we had to drive so crazy just to not get hit by a bullet, missile, or other cars.  There was no way we could drive all the way to the train.</p><p>There weren’t a thousand people trying to get on the train, there were thousands, probably more groups than ours.  They attacked the train from every side, from what I heard.  They say people came over the lake to get there, in boats.  The battle of twenty miles, lol…. You know, the one where the fate of the world is decided.  Like we learned about in school, lmao.  Except it’s real.<br/>
I mean I thought it sounded cool, the apocalypse. What I saw looked like an actual ocean of people, climbing over each other, like a zombie movie, like a human wave.  A wave of human bodies, and if it reached us, we would also, probably die.  Desperate people, in every direction, screaming, dying, being left behind.  When I wished for the end of the world, I didn’t mean this, I didn’t know it would look like this.  I just hated everyone, it’s not supposed to come true.  I’m so sorry.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Boards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After watching the latest episode, I like that Layton took partial responsibility for himself by offering to lose an arm for Pike... I still think there are problems with his character arc, but it makes the whole deal seem less frivolous and I like leaders who take responsibility for themselves... so.... maybe I will come back, but I don't know for sure.  Right now I'm boycotting Reddit I guess, so... I would have ordinarily posted the poem on poems reddit so I didn't lose it if my computer got stolen in the future... guess it's part of the story now... but it matches anyways, I think</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I made a ship of sand<br/>
and I'll sale it until it sinks<br/>
because I'm a hero<br/>
and I can do anything</p><p> </p><p>the ship of theseus is the question, if you take a ship and replace all the boards, piece by piece... is it the same ship?</p><p>if you reasemble the original boards into a ship, is that the ship?</p><p>people would speculate that they are both the ship.... but to me, that's not the point...</p><p>the point is this</p><p>what if the ship.... were people</p><p>if you take a group of people and replace them slowly over time... is it the same "people"?  if you take the original people in the group, and assemble them at a new location... are they the "people"... the reason I ask is... ships can't come into conflict with each other, but people can.... can the ship of Theseus eat itself if the ship is people?  because we, literally, are.</p><p>....are we the ship? or are they? are we all?  isn't the ship actually about the experience... and eventually, the experience of "the ship" is shared between all the boards, and that's why both ships are actually one.</p><p>- To whomever finds this, my name was Darius Smith, I was a high school math teacher.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What if I said, I had a question,<br/>
and the answer mattered a lot to me<br/>
but unlike others who pondered<br/>
I had the courage to finally see.</p><p>There is a question, I have always wanted to know the answer to.  Are good people actually rewarded, or is that a lie they tell you to control you... because everyone thinks they are good right?  So how can anyone feel like they deserve to suffer?  But then, if you justify causing suffering to others, how can you not justify it against yourself?  Yet, if you live your life not causing harm to others, doesn't that make you an easy target?  Everyone acts like life has to be this one specific way because some force greater than ourselves made it that way... but that's not really true mostly, is it?  Life is the way we make, the way We make it.  We act how we believe, and choose if we want to justify how we act.</p><p>I'm not much of a justifier.  You only have to see so many people break the rules before you don't believe they really exist... except the control the kind of people who like to follow rules.</p><p>It's harder out here anyways, in the "rule free" zone of the world.  You have to live by your wits in this place, not being so easily protected by the invisible walls of the rules, the general agreement that you let us treat you like shit for awhile and we let you go the rest, but if you fight back we try to make it worse for you and there is no rest.</p><p>I like plays on words.  </p><p>I think 70% of people are more like cattle, waiting to be penned by the prettiest shepherd and nothing more, the war is raged between the 30% right?  The rule breakers.</p><p>But once you jump off that cliff it's hard to go back, and in this lawless place, it's hard to survive.  An arm here, a chip there, who is noticed, who is missed.</p><p>It's a lot easier to solve problems you created and look like a hero than to solve any kind of real problem at all.  I see it all the time, the great orators.  The men who will talk and talk and entertain you, while other men eventually get the work done so we all don't die.  What's sad is when you realize that people want the entertainment more than the truth.  So... I don't play.  I feel sad for the Taillies, they're too honest you know.  They didn't even try to take someone's ticket, like that wasn't the easiest way to get on this train.  They just thought what, that people would care?  Get in line.  I'd rather cut myself.  Hey, call me bad, but there's a world full of very good, very dead people out there.  I didn't try to be good and hope for a chance.  I didn't wait.  I took my future, with my own hands, and yeah, I took it away from someone else, but didn't they take it away from us in the first place.</p><p>I look at my children, who are alive, and I don't blame myself.  I like to think I'm a realist, but those people who believe in fantasies would say I'm probably the bad guy... or girl, as the case would be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Run</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A family runs for the train</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>alternate title: The Traffic</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You know when you're a kid, and you wake up alone in the living room that one time, in the dark, without your family?  It was just like that.  

</p><p>He only pulled me aboard because of the baby, because I'm showing now.</p><p>Tom helped me over so many walls to get here, but a different hand pulled me up the final barrier, in the end. The barrier Tom couldn't climb.  Instead, he'd taken a bullet for me and the baby in the end.</p><p>I remember the moment exactly, like a still photo, not a real life thing that really happened.  We were all crowded together, thousands of us, on foot, passed the point where cars could even go.  Everyone was rushing, some screaming, the plan had fallen to basic force and rushing, with no other way to go, and time, and space, were limited.  I slowed them down.  I always did. But Tom grabbed my hand and pulled me forward.  Right up to mom and dad.  And mom ran with Andrea, like a pro athlete.  It was amazing.  She must have been tired.  </p><p>And it hurt so much, like, breathing, especially with the baby sloshing around, making me feel like I was going to pee my pants and suffocate at any minute.  It made me think of the rape.  The press of bodies, the smell; it made me think of his body, and his smell.  But Tom held onto me, and I knew, if I could endure that, I could endure this, until the end.  Until we made it onto the train.  Together.<br/>
And then people were shooting at us.  At mom and Andrea, and me, and Tom stepped in the way and got hit in the shoulder and everyone stopped, except for me, who had jerked forward when Tom's hand jerked forward, after he was hit by the bullet, and right before he fell backwards.  And he let go.</p><p>And I looked back at them, Mom and Dad, holding Andrea and Tom in the snow, and the people split behind them like the sea. And they were like a painting in their bright sweaters. The better to see us with.  The better to find us, in a storm. We were the stop light.  Tom was green, Andrea yellow, and I was red.  Mom and dad were both orange, like traffic cones.  I looked back at them and thought, traffic light, they look like a traffic light, and Tom's green light, was turning red.  Red means stop, but I am red.  Stop.</p><p>I stopped, just like the traffic light said.  Then someone ran by and hit me, and I looked forward for a second propelled by the impact.  I saw the train, giant and silver, just like salvation, people flooding inside, not more than a step out of reach. I turned back, to my family, but they were already gone.  

</p><p>I only looked away for a second.  Just like blinking. Forward and back, just like that, and they were gone, and hands were pulling me onto the train.</p><p>l.o.fucking.no</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Snowpiercer is Garbage and I Give Up On It!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Why does everyone have mildly good ideas and then ruin them?  Is Westworld to be the only good actual media in modern times?  At least everyone is beautiful on that show because they are robots.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So... Snowpiercer is garbage and while it inspired me to write an amazing story I think I'm just going to create my own original work since I don't want my name attached anymore to Snowpiercer, which is a shame because my favorite actress who i respect the most is in it and she would be upset that I am this passionately rude about work she did.</p><p>I don't actually care, what anybody thinks about me.   What's the deal with killing of Melanie the character everyone likes the most and replacing her with a younger version.. and so young as to be a teenager... maybe nobody else finds this extremely sexist, but I do.</p><p>Also, if its a fake out death, that's one too many and I can't get the point.  I don't like the Star Wars lets kill the entire original cast and replace them with younger versions people barely care about.  In general I find hollywood to be littered with stupid narcisistic drug addicts who couldn't do any real work if there parents didn't hand it to them.  I don't find all people in the industry to be this way, but almost every work created now is touched/ruined by the hand of somebody's drug addict nephew who couldn't get a real job and thinks writing is putting a woman in her underwear on screen.</p><p>At some point you just say no, and this is my line.  I just... was so excited about Jennifer Connelly's amazing acting, her dynamic with Layton, the actual character of Melanie.  Alex, her daughter is far less interesting and the replacement is exactly like those movies from the 80s and 90s where there's a new girl every sequal with no explanation about why... yeah they had some contrivance about why she died, but its clearly contrivance... and without Melanie I don't care what happens to anybody else in the show.  I HAVE ZERO INTEREST IN WATCHING PEOPLE "SAVE" THE TRAIN WITHOUT MELANIE.</p><p>THE FIRST TIME HOLLYWOOD CREATES A REALLY STRONG BADASS FEMALE CHARACTER WHOSE BADASS AND THE LEAD BECAUSE OF HER MIND AND THEN THEY KILL HER IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</p><p>U know what... screw it.  This is why Wilfred exists... he just saw how stupid and inane and unwilling to learn or change that everyone was and like the pigs on animal farm said fuck it... if they are going to act like that anyways, why should I try harder.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Why are writers always so terrible?  So, I won't write this anymore because the people who write Snowpiercer suck.  I was only watching for Melanie, she wasn't in almost the entire season and now she's dead?  No thank you.  I got mad when they had Layton pointlessly murder a character for nothing more than plot convenience mid season and I expressed that I think writing always devolves into pointlessness.  Turns out its true.  I mean... what's the point, even if it's a fake out I'm so... sick of it... already... and its a shame.</p><p>It was my favorite roll that Jennifer Connelly did since Labyrinth.  What the hell do writers have against Jennifer Connelly anyways?  Is a woman not allowed to be amazing?  I... just... am really sad, and sad that my story won't continue because it was great, but I just wont' waste my life or talent on garbage and bringing in new characters who are the children of characters we like for the purpose of killing off the characters we like is just garbage writing... and if it's three fake out deaths in a series in three seasons... well, that's also garbage writing, sorry.  Maybe I'm too harsh and not saying it in the write way... but... who cares anyways.  I care at all what people without Melanie do.</p><p>I was finally excited for what I thought was a well written show from people who actually cared about change... now I see that it is the same regurgitated garbage.. A man gets to save the day, a woman gets to be fridged and the younger version gets to replace the woman every year... No thank you</p><p>Also, Melanie was EVERYONE's favorite character.  I actually slogged through four (i think) horrible episodes without her just so I could see her come back.  I basically already lost interest in the show without her there, what I couldn't wait to see every week and cleared my schedule and made special plans with my friends to see I couldn't be bothered to watch without her.</p><p>Now you think you are hysterical because you killed her off.. or what, fake killed her off with some other ridiculous she's still alive trope... why do people destroy everything good?  I just mean the show... is the point that life is doomed? Like we can make a tv show where we pretend like people care about doing better, but the actual show will constantly replace women with younger versions and treat them like baby factories and ... you know what... screw it... if you cared you would have cared right?</p><p>You're paycheck gets signed no matter how young the girls.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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